


We're Both Liars

by firing_maine_cannon



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, Porn Mention, donut no, it can be platonic or romo whatever you want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 20:03:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3868051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firing_maine_cannon/pseuds/firing_maine_cannon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We're the same," he smiled faintly and the feelings washed from his eyes and replaced with only one.</p><p>"We're both liars. To them and ourselves."</p><p>--</p><p>AKA that fic where Donut isn't perfect and Caboose knows that feel</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're Both Liars

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to do sad Donut that didn't look totally perfect fanon and I got Pastry Train I wanna sue
> 
> Note, this Caboose is the same Caboose as in A Hero, aka faking being Caboose.
> 
> I wrote this at 4 am so uhh

He wasn't spoiled. He swore he wasn't, he was just... Higher privileged.

He couldn't say something like that though. Sarge may pat his back with pride, but saying something like that would only serve to piss off his other teammates more. Grif, the Hawaiian who'd raised his sister alone in poverty, and Simmons, the "Dutch-Irish" whose father treated him like road kill in the driveway.

And himself, the rich white kid who lived on a farm.

Alone. In the middle of nowhere.

He thought they would've picked up on it by now. Every little thing he did, he didn't do for himself, for his team, but for what he could've been.

When he first removed his armor in front of his teammates(not as fun as he would've liked), his eyes were locked to the floor. He could feel their vision flicker over everything. The patchwork of hair from waxing without instruction, the sloppy, handcut fauxhawk perched gently on his head that still attempted to fold as a duckbutt. Even minute details, like his dull, bagged grey eyes that were probably blue once, or his bitten off fingernails with slapped on polish. He swears Simmons even looked between his legs before the "human" averted his gaze towards the Hawaiian(1, he is NOT HUMAN!! 2, they're so definitely gay for each other).

And yet, despite that, they kept moving. They pretended they'd seen nothing but a rich white kid from Iowa. And sure, he was, but that wasn't HIM.

He was waxing poetic on this, but all those years(16, maybe more) alone, he'd never known who or what he was. He knew what he was doing, he knew how to survive, but he never knew how to live. So the moment he'd decided to leave his only home, he'd set out to make a way to live.

Which isn't easy when your entire state is crawling with zombies. Or, excuse him, "The Flood". Through scavenging he'd understood what he was, and he eventually found who he'd decided to be.

Gay porn. He found gay porn.

Look, if there's one thing that would be protected at all costs it'd be porn! Don't question it!

The Red was yanked from his thoughts, literally, when he felt someone grasp his helmet and surge it backwards. He'd be panicked if he didn't recognize that movement. Night had fallen, but he could still recognize the deep blue armor.

"Hey Mikey," his voice scratched a bit, unused to mumbling so gently. The soldier nudged his helmet towards Donut's, softly butting their heads together. "Any reason you're up this late?"

The larger man let out a soft snort of acknowledgement, walking off with Donut's helmet still in a death grip. He let himself get dragged along. His friend got temperamental as the day dragged, and he'd rather not test his patience.

They settled on a ridge, overlooking the whole canyon when Caboose finally released his helmet. The Red instinctively released a soft giggle that seemed to startle the other.

"If you'd pulled my neck back any farther, I'd have guessed you were gonna take a bite!" Though his tone was playful, it lacked his usual enthusiasm. He looked down in shame at the pitiful look he could feel through Caboose's visor.

He jumped when he felt fingers brush along the back of his neck. His thoughts fluttered in confusion until he heard the slow click of his helmet clasps. The large hands braced upon the sides of his helmet as they locked eyes. They didn't speak, just stared, until Donut gently rested a hand upon one of Caboose's. He barely caught a soft, too-tired-to-sleep sigh before his helmet was gently removed.

They froze in time. Donut didn't move as Caboose studied his face for the first time. The scabs on his lips from eating anything and everything, his ripped irises, the recent injury from a certain freelancer. The other's focus trailed on the jagged opening on his cheek revealing his almost too sharp molars, to the swirled deep lines when he'd tried to make himself look better, to the small hole where there should've been a cone around it.

He was everything that could go wrong on a human and everything he shouldn't be on himself.

His wrists were grasped, not painfully but forcefully, and trailed just above the Blue's nape. He gently pressed the clasps open as his hands were released and smoothed it over his head.

He couldn't process all of it at once. He just stared at the man's eyes. Those navy eyes, filled with every bad emotion. Confusion, anger, fear, sadness.

"We're the same," he smiled faintly and the feelings washed from his eyes and replaced with only one. Lips scraped apart who knows how neared his face, the smile growing more genuine.

"We're both liars. To them and ourselves."

**Author's Note:**

> WHOO KUDOS AND COMMENTS AND STUFF


End file.
